


(late summer, sixth year)

by doriananders



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 14:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10362918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doriananders/pseuds/doriananders
Summary: a very short fluff drabble





	

The sunlight-warmed sheets in combination with Remus’ constant heater-warm skin make mornings especially difficult in summers. Sirius wakes up with a sheen of sweat across his forehead and back from the heat, grumbling and flailing so that the blankets fall off of him, as if he couldn’t circumvent the problem by sleeping a whole six inches away from Remus during the night. (He couldn’t. He thought about it, one night, then thought about the nights he wants to wrap around Remus but can’t, and then stubbornly spoons up to the other boy.) The drama of his wake up never fails to steal back Remus from unconsciousness. 

He is drowsier in the mornings, slow and blinking (a quality that will be gone in fifteen years, a quality Sirius will reflect he never learned to appreciate) and smiling, or rolling his eyes, or just pressing his mouth against Sirius’ neck instead of speaking just yet. Sirius forgives him early on, leaving time to breathe in his skin, their early-morning scents the most desirable if only for being the ones Sirius most associates with home and care. It is something Sirius can appreciate all the more as an animagus, their mixed scents becoming a craving for lonely nights. They are still new, their scents holding meaning still precious, fragile, scary, but brilliant; the strange security is different from the Marauders but still all tied up with the same protection and ferocity, only for now it is just for them. 

“Breakfast soon,” Sirius croaks out, throat still catching up with the sun. Remus makes a grumble-snuffling noise and Sirius knows the expression that must be on his face, pressed against Sirius’ shoulder now, scrunched and displeased. He rolls away nonetheless, sitting upright quickly and cracking everything in his body. He’s marked up his back, lines that make Sirius feel a bit smug- they stand out from the scars, still red, not faded into permanence- that Remus is smart to cover with a shirt before his parents come to wake them for the morning. Sirius slots himself behind Remus, pressing up against him and rubbing his face over his shoulder before he has to bother to dress, to wake, to keep boundaries in the Lupin household. 

The morning is still, the sun is shining. The birds are singing outside, the day is moving on, but Sirius holds on to this moment, holds onto knowing Remus is smiling from the way the boy’s head lays at angle against his own, his eyes shut against the other’s too-warm skin, biting onto his own lip. He thinks, without intent, without purpose, that they are special, that they are a forever-kind-of-thing, and says as much with a soft press of lips to Remus’ shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry that i have no concept of proper tense usage xx


End file.
